The Prince was eloquent. His theme was high,

One which had taught less vigorous wings to fly,

The world of other days, the Pagan Rome,

The scarce less Pagan Rome of Christendom.

On these the Prince spoke warmly much and well,

Holding Griselda's patient ears in spell,

Yet broke off smiling when he met her eye

Fixed on his face in its mute sympathy:

A smile which was a question, an appeal,

And seemed to ask the meaning of her zeal.

He did not understand her quite. He saw

Something beyond, unfixed by any law

Of woman's nature his experience knew:

He knew not what to hold or hope as true.

For she was young and sad and beautiful,

41

A very woman with a woman's soul.

She had so strange a pathos in her eyes,

A tone so deep, such echoes in her voice.

What was this Roman Hecuba to her?

 Prev. P 36/124 next